Tiger,Tiger, Burning bright...
Striped clothing, Trousers tight...
What pure mortals hand or eye
Could frame thy lovely symmetry?
In what far and distant skies...
Is color equal to your eyes?
Who on earth brings such desire?
What lone mortal has such fire?
And what shoulders, tousled mane?
Glowing face or dazzling brain?
What long legs? What earthly measure...
Can calculate the hidden treasure?
When other stars throw down their Spears...
When fans are blinded by their tears...
When your sweet voice soars wild and free...
The Broads bow down with thanks to thee.
Tiger, Tiger,Burning bright!
Cherished carrier of Light...
What pure mortals hand or eye...
Can frame thy lovely symmetry?